Liars Like Us

37

My heart palpitates madly. My hands shake, my skin is clammy, and my stomach tightens to knots. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he slipped something funny into my drink.

But I haven’t been drinking. This is just what happens when a mouse realizes it has wandered into a trap. That cheese looked soo tasty, didn’t it? Yes. And now look: there’s a metal bar snapping down to crush my back.

I say faintly, “This might have been a mistake.”

At that, Callum bursts out laughing. I’m so surprised by his reaction, I sit with my mouth open, watching him, until he recovers his composure and turns to me, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth.

“It’s not a mistake for me. For you…” He shrugs. “Probably.”

“Seriously? That’s your answer?”

His tone innocent, he says, “I’m sorry, did you want me to lie?”

Panicking all over again, I demand, “I want you to tell me it wasn’t a mistake! And mean it!”

“And I want you to tell me you want me and mean it, so I guess we’ll both be disappointed.”

That voracious ego of his. He married me for the sole purpose of making sure he’d stay rich, but he still needs me to flatter him. Unbelievable.

I glare at him. “I swear to God, Callum McCord, if you turn out to be some kind of woman abuser, or even anything more irritating than I already know you are, I’ll leave you so fast, your head will spin.”

His dangerous smile makes a reappearance. “We’ll see. In the meantime, there’s one last thing we have to do to make the marriage legal.”

Suspicious of his tone and this new curveball, I say, “What?”

“Consummate it.”

Reaching over, he grabs me and drags me onto his lap.

Fourteen

T

he man can kiss, I’ll give him that. He might be the single most aggravating human to ever walk the face of the earth, and he clearly has control issues and a boatload of secrets, but he sure can kiss.

What an unfortunate development.

With one hand wrapped around my jaw, he delves his tongue into my mouth, sliding it against mine with delicious friction. His lips are soft. His body is hard. The arm he has wrapped around my back cradles me tightly. He holds me captive between his spread legs and drinks from my mouth as if from a well of water he’s been crawling over miles of burning sand to reach.

And for all the sniping I’ve done and the annoyance he causes me, I’ve never felt such sweet relief.

Though it pains me to admit it, I’ve been wanting this since I first met him.

Might as well enjoy it while I can, considering I’ll never let it happen again.

I arch into him and slide a hand up around the back of his strong neck, twining my fingers into his hair. He makes a sound of pleasure low in his throat and kisses me deeper. When I whimper softly, he moves his hand down from my jaw to encircle my neck.

“Sweet little lamb,” he murmurs against my lips. “Hungry, aren’t you?”

“Why do you have to ruin everything by talking?”

He chuckles. I open my eyes to find him gazing down at me, his eyes dark and hazy. A small smile plays over his mouth.

I frown at him. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

“I can’t help it.”

“If you say one word about how much you think I liked that, I’ll commit an act of unspeakable violence.”

“But you did like it.” He lowers his head to nuzzle his nose against the tender spot beneath my earlobe. Then he whispers into my ear, “You’ll like it even more when I f**k you.”

Hearing him say that makes every one of my body systems slam into red alert. Heat flashes over my skin. My heartbeat takes off like a rocket. My thighs clench, and my nerves stand on end and start screaming.

Which is all very inconvenient, considering I’ve already decided there will be nothing between us but paperwork. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. The sooner I get my hormones on board with it, the better.

Besides, who knows how many other women he’s already sleeping with? The line is probably so long, it circles the city.

When I make a move to escape, he tightens his hand around my throat and holds me in place. His voice gruff, he says, “Here’s where you tell me how you want it.”

“No, here’s where I tell you my temper goes from zero to life in prison faster than you can blink. Let me go.”

“Oh, I know all about that temper of yours. For someone so bookish, you’re surprisingly hotheaded.”

“Calling me bookish isn’t an insult, but nice try. Let me go.”

Ignoring that, he says, “The longer you pretend you don’t want to f**k me, the more punishment you’ll have coming, so you might as well admit it.”

“Stop saying the F word! And you can lay off on the punishment thing too. If you put a hand on me, I’ll murder you in your sleep.”

“You don’t want to murder me. You want to ride my big stiff c**k until you come so hard, you pass out.”

His language makes me gasp in disbelief.

“Admit it.”

“No. Because I don’t!”

My denial does nothing to dent his confidence. His smile is so self-satisfied, it makes me want to rip off his face.

“Let me go. I’m serious.”

“I’m never letting you go, wife. Get used to it.”

The way he said “wife” is so possessive, it makes my face hot. Other parts of me are hot, too. In fact, my entire body is feverish. Desperate to escape, I squirm in his arms.

“Emery, stop wriggling and look at me. No, not at the f*****g roof. At me.”